What's In A Name?
by ABDonovan
Summary: I never had a name before the rebellion. I never had a purpose before the rebellion...until I met Cassian Andor. Cassian Andor/OC
1. Chapter 1: Wrong Place, Right Time

**A/N: This is my first Star Wars fan fiction. I was so taken with the character of Cassian Andor and how completely open his past and his story was before his death. I decided to write a story, set in the same universe, under the same timeline. It's based off a character I am absolutely excited to explore, in order to properly build my mandalorian armor. This is not a self insert as much as it's a character study for a project I'm working on...I just find it easier to work in first person/past tense.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Please review and PM me with any questions or suggestions!**

What's In A Name

Chapter 1: Wrong Place, Right Time

Time has never been on anyone's side in this galaxy. Time has never been something you could hold onto, but it has always been a rushing, driving, unforgiving force of everything. If you knew how much time you had left on earth, what would you change? Who would you save in the process?

I guess what I'm asking is, have you ever fought for anything? Have you ever been dragged into a fight that's not your own, simply because of the blind faith of another? If that answer is no, well...this is exactly what it looks like.

 ** _-Approximately One Year before the Battle of Scarif –_**

I stumbled, my normally skilled feet suddenly clumsy with anxiety as I sprinted along the rocky ground of that mountain. I bobbed, weaved, and attempted to keep my helmeted head low to the ground, dodging the bright blasts that passed, hot against the metal of my armor, blistering my skin. Each of them grew louder, making my feet that much clumsier each time. This system was under imperial control. Who would have guessed? The typically boring planet was normally home to the scum of the earth, scavenging every bit of wreckage they could find, tossing bodies to rot aside any piece of metal that could be salvaged from the victim's vehicles. The Empire was obviously looking for someone important, and I, thanks to my unfortunate gift for collecting Rebellion 'memorabilia', happened to be the first target they had seen. The large Rebel Alliance symbol scrawled across the top of my helmet must have triggered the attack, and I could almost hear the transmission of 'a Mandalorian sympathizer found on Asmeru.'

"Hold fire…", a very electronic voice commanded from behind, a nonchalant command that sent chills down my spine, and caused me to stop running in my tracks. As I reached the top of the hill, my pace slowing with every step, the reason became clear. The city below me bustled, the market loud and unruly as the various species went about their day. I turned on my heel, the Stormtroopers approaching slow and deliberate, the smirks under their helmets almost showing on the pearl white sheen that covered their faces. I gave my own small smirk, shrugging my shoulders, and pulled out my Westar blaster, firing a single shot into the group. One of the clones crumpled, distracting the rest as they raised their blasters to fire at me once more, but by that time I was nowhere to be seen. I dropped to my hip, and began sliding down the hill, through the rocks and small trees. As I descended, my armor dinged off of the various hard surfaces, causing me to cringe at every metallic reminder of the damage such sound would do to my bare skin.

I hit the bottom, my body falling into a shallow pool of water with a large splash. I lay there for a bit, panting, staring at the sky above me. It was getting worse. The numbers of mindless clones the Empire was bringing into this battle was growing, and they were ruthless. Obviously, their only reason for existing was death. The force to drive out the Rebellion, and silence the Rebels was a no mercy fight, and even looking as if you didn't agree with the Empire was an instant death sentence. Well great I was stuck in the middle of all of this, due to a pretty paint job.

My name is Kitah'ra. At this point I had no last name. No purpose. I didn't know who my parents were, or where I came from. But I knew one thing. I was a Mandalorian, at least by blood. Of all of my belongings that I had for my entire life, my mother's helmet is one of them. A friend, who not unlike many other caretakers during this fight abandoned me in the outer rim, gave it to me. He had said I would survive. I was Mandalorian. I was resourceful by blood, strong by blood. I would figure out a way to survive, above all else, because that's what we do. After placing my helmet atop my head, he vanished. I painted that helmet a million times, not even sure that it belonged to me the way I would like. But it was always mine. I trained as a Mandalorian, seeking out anyone in the galaxy with any information of the remaining few of my people still in existence, and not in hiding. I lost many mentors over the past 20 years, most to the hands of the Empire, and a few, fighting for a cause that was not even ours. I believed in the Rebellion. I didn't believe in their incessant need to run suicide missions for the 'greater good'. I guess the need for self-preservation is also running through my veins. I believed in taking care of yourself, and putting people first, only if it benefited you. However, I did stand with the Rebellion on one thing. The Empire was good for no one. They benefited no one. They needed to be snuffed, if not just to make my life easier.

A flash of light snapped me out of my daydream, hitting a space between my shoulder bell and helmet, burning directly through my neck seal. I groaned loudly, turning onto my stomach to swim. The shots continued, hissing against the water around me. The thought of another hitting my skin caused a wave of adrenaline to flow through me. I stood, running in the water, toward the shore, my hand pressed against my neck. As I pulled my hand from my neck, the damage was immediately apparent by the stream of blood dripping through my fingers and down the back of my bright blue armor. I groaned once more, suddenly feeling dizzy, but pressed on. As I reached the shore, a large figure came into view. A ship! I narrowed my eyes, attempting to take in the shape of the ship. I was an experienced flyer, but not the most confident. I had stolen vehicles (X-wings, Ties, and various land speeders) but nothing like this. I gazed upon the large ship a few moments longer, before the dizziness in my head nearly brought me to my knees. So, I ran.

The hatch lay open, causing a bit of concern, but concern was not something I could afford to give much weight to. I stumbled up the large ramp, pulling my blaster once more for protection. The ship seemed empty, but it was vast. There could be anyone or anything hiding in those compartments. Putting that aside, I fumbled my way to the cockpit of the ship, taking a look around. The only sign of human life was a vest, draped over the back of the seat, the Rebel Alliance symbol plastered along the lapel, and another vest hanging on the wall to the right, unmarked, other than the name "Andor" painted in a faded white Aurebesh. Andor seemed familiar, but didn't strike me as particularly important. Probably a name I had heard across the scanners at some point. Maybe the ship was simply flying into Asmeru on a supply run, but for a U-wing, this seemed a little odd. The fact that the ship, meant to carry large numbers of troops, was empty only made my paranoia grow.

A drop of blood splashed loudly against my gauntlet, alerting my attention back to the injury to my neck. I shook myself out of my haze, and climbed into the pilot's seat, flipping switches as quickly as I could with shaky fingers. The blackouts came on swiftly, my head drowsy and cold. I shook myself physically, mumbling a simple, "C'mon Kit. Keep it together. This is nothing…"

As I spoke, a faint scream caught my attention, as I blacked out once more. I shook myself harder, glancing out the window toward the voice as it screamed louder.

"Hey! Thief! Get out of there! You're not stealing this ship!"

'But I am…', I thought hazily, as the engines finally powered up. I slowly pushed the thruster forward, the ship rising with a shudder. The man's face changed from determination to panic as the ship rose, and then slammed back to the ground, before rising a bit more. A small blackout later and I lost him. I shrugged, my shaky, cold hands attempted to thrust the ship further into the air, before a heavy accent raided my brain. Damn. I had forgotten all about the ramp…

"I said…", the man nearly whispered, out of breath and angry, "You're not stealing this ship."

I lowered the ship back to the ground, defeated, as a blaster clinked against the temple of my helmet. I giggled lightly at the irony. Running from the empire one second, and I was going to die at the hands of a rebel.

"Who are you? Where did you get that helmet?"

"What?", I attempted to ask, as the shivering overtook my entire body.

"Where did you get that helmet!? Answer me!"

"It's mine. I'm a…I'm…Mandalorian…", I stuttered, reaching to remove the helmet.

"Stop moving! There haven't been Mandalorians around here in years. Where did you get it? Did you steal it? That armor looks scavenged…are you a bounty hunter?", the man asked, his eyes beginning to dart around to each window as he nervously shook his blaster at me.

"I didn't steal it. My family…"

"Why is that there?", he shoved the blaster toward the top of my helmet, signalling to the Rebel Alliance symbol, "Who sent you? Did you think you were going to take my ship? Make it easier for the Empire to get their hands on me? Yeah. I bet you did…"

I giggled loudly, dropping my arms to my lap, and turned my head away from him, "No one sent me. I came for food. I found the empire. They are over that hill, behind us. If…if you don't want to be in the same boat I am, I suggest we leave."

"No. You're not my problem. Get up. You're wasting my time."

"I can't move. I've been shot…", I whispered, rolling my eyes, unseen beneath my helmet.

"Again, not my problem. Get up. Do it!"

I groaned as I raised my arm quickly, raising his blaster from my face to his own nose with a sickening crack. Throwing the blaster to the side, I carefully raised my Westar to his bloody nose and smirked, "I'm not…going…anywh-"

A metallic blow to my face blew my helmet off, before I was lifted by my chest armor and slammed to the ground behind the seat. Out of breath and disoriented, I stared up at my assailant, my eyes narrowed.

"Captain, sir. I have run analysis on the situation. The odds are in your favor to take her back to the base. There is a good chance the General would want to speak to her. Might I suggest we lock her up?", the droid spoke out, eloquently.

"We don't take in strays, K2. Especially not…agh.", the man leaned heavily against the back of the pilot's seat, holding his nose. Blood cascaded from between his fingers, "She's being pursued by the Empire."

The man struggled to rise from the ground, the droid reaching down and throwing him to his feet by his collar, prior to a soft pat on the head.

"And sir…So are we."

In perfect unison with those words, the first blast fired its way through the ship, and into the back of the co-pilot seat. The close proximity to the Captain's ribs shook him, and he stumbled around to the pilot's seat powering up the engine again. The droid pressed a single button, raising the ramp, launching a Stormtrooper in the process.

"I am going to restrain you now. I suggest you do not struggle. It will not be very enjoyable for you if you do. Sir, shall I attend to her neck?", K2 strung out, slapping a set of cuffs onto my wrists. As he did so, he strapped me into the wall of the ship, and forced me to sit.

"No. If she dies, she dies…", the man sneered, quickly lifting the ship off the ground, and away from the mountain into hyperspace.

"As you wish, Captain…"


	2. Chapter 2: Chances Are

**A/N: Here's chapter 2. I'm having fun writing for this and I hope everyone is enjoying it as well. If you like the chapter, please review and follow! I will answer any PM's if you have questions as well. Thanks for looking!**

What's In A Name?

Chapter 2: Chances Are

The sounds of X-wing engines powering up woke me from my slumber, a slumber I did not remember falling into. I slowly opened my eyes, attempting to raise my hand to shield them from the light. However, both hands stopped just before reaching my face. I glanced down at them, my breathing quickening as I realized that I was cuffed to a table, or a bed. Either way, I had a bad feeling about this.

"Sir…", K2 said simply, drawing my attention. He was staring down at my face, his hands on either side of my head, resting on the mattress. After he spoke, his hands shifted to the back of the bed, and I was jolted upward into a sitting position. There, the Captain from the ship was standing, his arms crossed, his face stern. I rolled my eyes, a sigh leaving my nose and stared back at him.

"That look. Either you want something, or there's a reason you tied me down…", I muttered with a smirk. I thought I saw a tiny smirk attempt to break its way onto his lips, before his mouth drew a straight line, and then turned downward harshly. What a shame it would be if he showed any sort of emotion…

"I will ask you this again, and tell the truth. Who are you?"

I sighed, fighting at the cuffs with my hands, before staring up at him with a bit more attitude than intended, "I'm Kitah'ra…"

"Kitah'ra what?"

"I don't know.", I whispered.

"You don't know. She doesn't know.", the Captain changed his glare from my face to K2's, and chuckled, "Well it's funny to me that you don't know who you are, and yet you're wearing a helmet that should help you figure it out. Tell me…who you are."

The ice in his voice sent a chill down my spine, as his eyes met my own again. I shuddered, closing my eyes, but stayed stern, "I don't know, and that's the truth. I have no clue who my parents were, or even what planet I actually came from."

"The Nite Owls. Does that mean anything to you at all?", he asked, his face relaxing, as if he believed at least a bit of what I was saying.

I thought about it. My mind flooding with the few images I had of the few Mandalorians I had come into contact with over the course of my lifetime. I thought harder. I dug into my brain. Stories of the Nite Owls had swept through, here and there. They were the Mandalorian equivalent of the Rebel Alliance. They had fought back against the Sith that took control over Mandalore. They were an elite task force, and were ruthless. I knew that they were led by Bo Katan.

"Bo Katan.", I muttered, my eyes remaining at the Captain's chest.

"What about Bo Katan? Did you know her? Are you related to her?"

"I don't know her. I know the stories of her. They've circulated through the galaxy, especially amongst the Mandalorians.", I mumbled. As I spoke, I glanced down at my hands, then at my arms. I had no gloves on my hands, or a flight suit. My armor had been stripped from my body, and I was in a simple white gown. Panic attacked my senses and I fought harder against my restraints, my gaze changing from nonchalant to searing anger as I met the Captain's eyes again, "Where's my armor?"

"Being studied."

"You don't know what you're doing. You don't know anything! You don't know what that armor means…", I furiously growled at him.

"Then tell me. Tell me what the armor means. Tell me where you got it. Tell me why you stole my ship!", he snapped back at me, his face close enough to mine that his breath moved my hair. I flinched, but kept my own glare.

"I don't know any of the answers you're wanting, and if it would make you feel better to kill me, then go ahead…I stole your ship because it was there. It was there; I was running from the Empire, who coincidentally was only chasing me because they believed I was a rebel. I'm not your enemy here. I just want to go. Give me my armor! Let me go!", I cried out, my eyes welling up with tears as I screamed at him. His face contorted, shifted from anger, to what could have resembled empathy, and then back to anger and impatience.

"Sir. I must say, out of all of the people that we have interviewed together, this is the first one that I believe. There is much resolve in her voice. I'm not programmed to understand human interactions, but from what I've learned…", K2 began to speak, before the Captain interjected.

"That's enough K. I get it. So, you don't know anything about the Nite Owls, other than things that you've heard. You've never seen a Nite Owl?", he asked, his voice calm collected.

"I've never seen one, no. Why is that so important to you?"

"Because you are one.", he said with a chuckle.

"Wha-?", I attempted to straighten myself a bit more, confused. However, I was forced back down against the bed by K2. A simple 'no' was the only response, as his metallic hands both pressed against my shoulders.

"Tell me about the man who raised you. Was he a rebel?", the Captain asked yet another question. I sighed, not wanting to open the can of worms that was soon to follow at this answer. I bit my lip, but his hands coming to his hips impatiently said that he wouldn't take another 'I don't know' from me.

"Not exactly. My caretaker was a clone. He had cut his chip from his head, to try and get away from the Empire. He apparently fought with the Jedi in the Clone Wars, and didn't want to have anything else to do with the Rebels, or their war. But when he realized that his only purpose after the war, was the fight, he rejoined, fighting against the Empire as part of a small group of rogue clones. He was there the day that they stormed my planet, killing my entire family, and the majority of the remaining Mandalorians. I never knew the true reason the clones had shown up, maybe allegiance to what was left of the non-rebels…", I tapered off. This was the first time I had really thought about the fact that an entire planet of displaced people had been slaughtered, thanks to the actions and convictions of a few of their race. They were murdered simply because of their connection by blood, not by views, "I-I was eight years old when my family was killed. I had hidden in a small bunker that held blasters, and other weapons, when the "saviors" came for the children. There were only a few of us that survived, maybe ten. That's where I met Tuck."

"What was his number?", the Captain asked, interrupting me. His face drew a blank, apparently being unaware that this had ever happened. I almost laughed. The Rebellion had lost track of something happening in the universe? That's a new one, apparently. I shook my head as I stared into his eyes, attempting to gain his trust.

"I don't know. I only ever knew him as Tuck, or his official 'second name' of Tux. The children were dispersed throughout the outer rim of the galaxy, on some of the worst planets, to live with some of the worst people. We had little chance given to us, and some didn't make it. I traveled with a small group of children for a while after Tuck disappeared. He gave me my mother's helmet, placing it on my head along with a bag of food on my shoulder, and walked away from me. The only words of advice that I was ever given in my life were 'You'll survive. You're a Mandalorian.', and he was gone. Of the children that I traveled with, a few were killed, a few died of starvation and dehydration. Families that had lost their own children adopted a couple, and then there was me. I have struggled, scavenged, and built things along the way. My armor is scavenged. I built it myself from different vehicles and droids. It's not as good as Mandalorian armor, but it does the trick…most of the time."

The Captains face once again seemed confused. He glanced from my face, to K2's face, and returned to my own, before nodding. He sighed, placing his hands on his hips, and started to walk out the door, before coming back, "You're not a spy. Don't lie to me. You have no connection to the empire?"

"Other than being an enemy, now, because of you? No. I was being chased, simply because of the symbol on my helmet. I am not, nor was I ever a part of, or in connection with the empire." I said truthfully.

"Alright. You'll stay here tonight, locked down. You can have your…armor…back when I am satisfied that you're not here to kill anyone." he muttered, waving his hands for emphasis.

"Captain Andor is being forced to watch over you. He has to study you. The General is concerned with the Empire suddenly being so low in numbers, in the different systems. The General seems to believe that they are guarding something, planning something that requires a lot of firepower.", K2 regurgitated, causing me to smirk, and Captian Andor's face to fall into an angry scowl.

"K2, we will talk about this later. We may need to work on that…issue…", he stammered, rattled, suddenly turning on his heel and leaving the room. K2 stayed behind, coming around the bed to stand eye to eye with me.

"He is going to make me analyze the clone database now. Your surrogate surely would have some connection with the Nite Owls, and quite possibly with Pre Visla."

Pre Visla.

That name sent a small flashback through my brain. A fallen leader. A dark force. A sadness that overwhelmed me, the sadness of my mother. Devastation. Rebellion. The Sith. A fight. A war. My mother's feelings were everywhere, but not her face, not her voice, only her devastation at the name Pre Visla.

"I don't know what they expect to find. I'm nothing, and I mean nothing to this fight. I'm simply a scavenger…", I mumbled, tears prickling the edges of my eyes.

"I highly doubt that, miss. Cassian does not believe in coincidence. He doesn't believe in the force. He believes in what happens and what he sees. You found us for a reason, and that is a reason he will find, one way or another.", K2 explained, as convinced as Cassian that something was up, or so it seemed.

Cassian. We had a name. Cassian Andor.

Cassian returned through the doorway, his outfit changed to a simple long sleeved shirt with a buttoned neckline, and military fatigue pants. His blaster was held firmly in his right hand as he sat down in a chair across from my bed, and leaned back with a sigh.

"I have to stay here tonight. They don't trust you to stay put, and to not attempt escape. So, I've been positioned to guard you, until morning. Then we will discuss the next plan of action to find out what we can about the shrinking numbers of the Empire. Be ready to talk. Be ready to help. You cooperate, I cooperate. You don't and you'll never see your armor, or the light of day again. I can promise you that.", the ice in his voice could have construed as evil and malicious, but to me, it was the sound of a man who needed rest.

"Yes, sir.", I murmured, staring at him. He laid the blaster on the seat beside him, and bit his lip.

"Good. K2 is going to take off those restraints, all but one leg. I will allow you to sleep comfortably, because I need you to be in working condition in the morning. Don't try anything. Don't move more than necessary, or I will restrain you again. Understand?"

I nodded simply, as the restraints popped from my wrists and my right leg.

"K2, stand by outside the door, just in case. If she crosses your line, do whatever you need to do.", Cassian ordered to K2, leaning his head back, and allowing his eyes to flutter closed.

"As you wish, Captain.", K2 answered, heading for the door.

"It's going to be a long night…", Cassian muttered in sync with my thoughts. We both fell into silence, and eventually an uncomfortable sleep.


	3. Chapter 3: The Terrors

**Author's Note: So sorry I've been away, guys! My macbook decided to crap out for a while. It wouldn't turn on, and I can't type fast enough on my phone to make any sort of progress on my writing. I hope you are all still around. I have a computer for now. So, I should be at least updating once a week, if not more.**

 **This chapter is a little shorter, but I love the way it has turned out. Sorry for the delay. Sorry for the short chapter, but I promise I'm still here. Thanks for all your kind reviews! I love getting them. So, make sure to favorite, follow, and review if you like the story!**

Chapter 3: The Terrors

"Kitah'ra! No! Not my daughter!", a voice rang out through the darkness.

"Shut her up!"

A single blast silenced the voice, as a large set of arms wrapped around my waist. I was lifted, thrown over a shoulder, where I raised my head to watch the chaos behind us. There, my mother lay, dead on the ground. Her eyes burned into my own, cold and lifeless: gone.

"No! Let me go! Put me down…let me go!", I cried into the shoulder holding me up. I punched, kicked, and writhed, to no avail.

"I've got ya…", a thick accented voice cooed to me, "I've got ya, love…"

As the voice tapered off, a large explosion caused my heart to jolt. I sprang up from the bed; sweat dripping onto the drenched white robe. I stared toward the door, steadying my breath slowly. Why were the dreams back? Why could I see my mother, after all these years? Suddenly memories of her flooded my brain, as I attempted to control my tears. I would not cry in front of Cassian.

Cassian.

I turned my gaze from the door to Cassian's face. He sat, his head tilted downward, in what seemed to be a peaceful sleep. I studied his face. Light scars littered any raised area: his nose, his lips, his cheek bones. He seemed old for his age. Frown lines ran from the corners of his lips, and the corners of his eyes. His hair was already beginning to gray, sweeping across his eyes, and dirty from the busy life he seemed to lead. He snored lightly, his breathing shallow, showing the damage of smoke and fuel on his lungs. Seeing him in this state was fascinating, and almost mesmerizing. He was calm. He was at peace.

After a few seconds of staring, however, I noticed a twitch in his lips. At first a twitch, then a sneer, and silent words. I was fixated. Was this a nightmare?

"Cassian…", I whispered through the darkness, in a weak attempt to stir him.

"No. Didn't…sign up for this. I didn't sign up for this!", he cried out, his bottom lip quivering as he sobbed. I gasped, quickly throwing the blankets off my legs. I knew better than to wake him during a nightmare, especially one that seemed violent. However, allowing someone to relive a memory this painful was wrong, and more selfishly, it was killing me.

"Cassian!", I whispered a little louder, searching around for anything to break my restraint. My eyes settled on a lock pick, sat on the table to the side of my bed. Who would have left that there? Was this a trap?

I didn't care. As Cassian's nightmare became more violent, I stretched, feeling as if my ribs were going to break from the tension. My finger finally landed upon the lock pick, dragging it across the table into my hand. I reached down quickly picking the lock on my one restrained ankle, throwing the restraint to the side.

"Cassian…", I spoke out loud this time, climbing off the bed and crouching in front of his knees, "CASSIAN!"

As my hand came forward and made contact with his knee, he jolted awake, his own hand finding his blaster immediately.

"WHOA! WhoaWhoaWhoa! Cassian!", I screamed, as a blast singed the hair near my ear, and hit the wall behind me.

His tear stained face contorted, his eyes darting around the room, as the light flicked on. I gripped his knee, staring up at him.

"You're okay. Shhh. You're okay.", I whispered.

"What are you doing!? How did you get out of your restraints? Get your hands off of me…", he spit out between labored breathing. He shoved me backward, causing me to fall onto my back with a 'thud'. I peered up just as K2 stepped into the room, his feet clanking toward us noisily.

"Sir. Has she attacked you?"

"No. Just…just get her back into her restraints. Figure out how she got loose in the first place.", Cassian spat, staring down at me, as his eyes began to clear of their tears.

"You were dreaming of something! What's wrong with you?! I got free with the pick that someone left on the bedside table. Probably because of your nightmares, considering you almost blew my head off!", I snapped back at him, as K2 grabbed my arm and dragged me from the ground. I found myself slung onto the bed, pressed down, and my ankle locked back into place roughly.

"You shouldn't have touched me. I've killed people for less.", Cassian groaned, leaning his head back as if to try and calm his heartbeat further.

"Like innocents? Children?", I asked, my sneer dropping instantly as his eyes shot open. He sat up straight, staring at my face, his eyes burning hot into my own.

"What do you know about me?"

"Nothing. I just met you. I'm only going by what you were saying in your sleep…", I whispered, now very nervous.

"And that was?"

"You said 'I didn't sign up for this'. You were crying. You were distraught. A man like you? That usually involves children, or at the least, people who didn't deserve to die.", I continued to whisper. His face softened, and he changed his gaze to meet K2's face, before sighing and falling into silence. K2 reached, pushing the door shut slightly, to retrieve a jacket from the hook on the wall. He held it out to Cassian, who stood and put his arms through the holes, "I just wanted to help you. I have nightmares too. I have nightmares of things you can't even understand. I couldn't sit here and just watch you be tortured, whether you want anyone to care about you or not. I don't know you. But I know you're not a bad person."

As I frantically tried to reason with him, and explain myself, Cassian stopped moving, before sighing, "Yes I am…"

My face fell, saddened, as he stumbled from the room with K2 in tow. How could he be so damaged? What had happened to him? I knew I shouldn't care. He was holding me captive. However, something about seeing someone that weakened, completely helpless to their own thoughts changed things. I wanted to know more, and I was determined to find out as much as I could about him. If we were going to be working together, he owed me at least that much.

I sighed, sitting back against the pillows as the footsteps tapered off down the hallway. I would find answers, but not now. For now? I needed to rest for a while. It was going to be a long day. As I settled back down, I lay there, staring at the ceiling.

A night of nightmares had opened up a whole new side of my brain. I cared about Cassian Andor, or at the very least, I could relate, and I knew he didn't deserve this torture.


End file.
